Wingman
by EvaCybele
Summary: Reno decides to 'help' Rude win over the girl of his dreams. Rude/Tifa


Tifa was manning the bar when they came in, as usual. She looked like she still didn't quite know what to make of them, but Reno just strutted up the bar like he owned the place, so all Rude really could do was follow. He had barely gotten settled on a bar stool before Reno opened his stupid mouth.

"Hey Lockhart, where's Strife tonight? Out having amazing adventures while you're stuck here playing house with those kids? That's gotta suck." Reno slouched on the bar stool, giving both Tifa and Rude his typical cocky grin. Rude's mouth turned down in a scowl – mentioning Strife was always a bad idea, it put Tifa on the defensive.

Sure enough, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "He's on a delivery. Why do you ask?"

Reno's grin took on a lecherous quality, and Rude thought about hitting him before he could say whatever was about to come out of his mouth. "Well, then, since you'll be so lonely, maybe Rude here could keep you company – oh shit!"

Rude smirked at his partner, who was now on his ass on the floor, his bar stool pulled from beneath him. He cocked his thumb over his shoulder – a not-so-subtle way of saying "get the hell out of here before you screw this up even more."

Reno shot him a betrayed sort of glare. "The fuck did you do that for? I was trying to help your pansy-ass score the broad you've been dreamin' about for three fucking years! Some gratitude..." He kept up a steady muttering of curses as he made his way out of the bar.

When Rude turned his attention back to Tifa, the barmaid was giving him look that lingered somewhere between amused and wary. "Rude, please don't tell me that Reno was playing wingman and now you're going to ask me out."

The bald man adjusted his sunglasses and shook his head. "No. I imagine you get enough of that here." He waved a hand, indicating the legions of men that were eying Tifa with varying degrees of adoration.

Tifa smiled slightly and set a bottle of beer down in front of Rude. "That's true. To be completely honest, I don't really want – or need – a boyfriend right now." She settled herself against the bar, a slightly distant look in her eyes. The woman was carrying a hell of a torch for Strife, that was obvious to anyone. There was no way she was going to look at another man while that was blinding her. That was alright, though. Rude was nothing if not patient. He had to be, to put up with Reno's crap.

"What I do need, however, is a sparring partner." Her words jerked him back to reality. "I'm getting way rustier than I feel comfortable with."

Rude nervously rubbed the back of his head, nodding. "I could help you with that. If you wanted. Do you...want my cell number?"

She turned to take the drink order of a man who had sat down a few seats from Rude. "Sure. I'll give you a call when I'm free, we'll work something out." She tossed him a reassuring smile over her shoulder. He scribbled his number down on a napkin and handed it to her when she came back.

Tifa took the napkin and slipped it into her pocket. "Just don't tell Reno, okay? I don't want him getting any stupid ideas. Why do you hang out with him anyways? I mean, you guys seem like friends, but I can't really see what you'd see in him." Her eyebrows creased a little – she seemed genuinely curious.

Rude shrugged and took a swig of his beer. "He's my partner. Sure, he pisses me off sometimes, but I know he always has my back." He glanced back up at Tifa's soft huff.

"Yeah, I guess I can understand that." The side of her mouth quirked upward in a grin.

Rude downed the rest of his beer and pulled out several gil coins, leaving them on the bar next to the empty bottle. "Thanks for the beer, Tifa."

She smiled at him. "Any time, Rude. See you soon."

He stood and nodded at her, then strode out the door. Reno was waiting for him as he stepped into the cool night air. "How'd it go, man? Am I the best fuckin' wingman or what? Who else would be willing to make themselves look like a total jerkface just to make your ass look good, huh?"

Rude just smirked and shook his head. "Can't tell you. She thinks you're a 'jerkface'."

"What? C'mon, tell me anyways!"

"Nope, you suck at keeping secrets."

"...Asshole."

Rude adjusted his sunglasses and smiled.


End file.
